“Fucking right, it is.” He stands, a towering menace, moving slowly around the table. The weak light in the room is swallowed by his shadow as he stops before me, his presence choking the air between us. “The dumbest move you could’ve made for your own skin. Flogging you would be a mercy, after the insult you openly threw at me—bedding my daughter, then admitting you’re the keeper of her secrets...”
“But you won’t,” I say, voice calm and deliberate. I can see it in his eyes—he won’t, because his faith won’t allow him that. He knows it, and so do I.
“You’ve got no idea what that compass means.” His voice drops to a whisper, but there’s venom in it. “Not to her, not to me, not to anyone who understands the old ways.”
And he’s right. I don’t know a damn thing about their old ways. But what I do know is that Gypsy Flint has a grip on me I can’t shake, no matter how much I try. I throw up a front of arrogance, but deep down? I’m just as desperate, just as lost in the dark as he is. I can see it in his eyes, the fear creeping in behind the anger, the fear of losing control. The same fear that gnaws at me every time I think of her.
“Maybe I don’t understand your old ways,” I say, leaning in just a bit. “But I know one thing—that compass is trouble. And I’m not looking for that kind of trouble to findher.”
His lip curls into a sneer, a flash of red rising in his face like he’s one breath away from throwing a punch. But then he exhales, steps back, and turns his back to me—as if I’m beneath him. Like I’m no threat at all. My fingers twitch, eager to remind him of his mistake, to end him right there. But I don’t move. I force myself to stay perfectly still.
“Have you seen it? Does she have it on her?” he asks, not even bothering to look at me fully, just glancing over his shoulder.
“Seen it in her pocket, alright,” I reply, voice low but sharp. “Doubt she’d let it go. It means too much to her.”
And if you think otherwise, you’re more of a fool than I thought.
“Of course,” he mutters, like he’s got all the answers. “She guards her treasure close—just like I taught her.” Then he turns, eyes cold as he spits the next words. “But she didn’t expect her lover to betray her.”
The way he saysloverdrips with contempt, like it leaves a sour taste in his mouth. Butbetray—that word? Now that sounds downright filthy.
Maybe he’s right. Maybe I deserve it. Nobody likes a traitor, no matter the reason. But I made my choice, weighed my options. Being called a filthy rat is a hell of a lot better than watching her get killed if I could have stopped it.
“This isn’t betrayal.” I tilt my head, eyes narrowing. “This is protection. I’m keeping her alive.”
He scoffs, shaking his head. “A Marauder saving a Serpent? Don’t insult me.”
“Laugh if you want,” I say, voice low, steady. “But she’s more than a Serpent to me.”
The words taste like rust. It feels wrong, being vulnerable—especially with him. But it’s the truth, isn’t it? So let it sting.
“And you’re nothing more than a Marauder to her,” he says, voice sharp. “She nearly gutted you the moment she laid eyes on you.”
I force my muscles to stay loose, steady. Fuck, I want to punch something. Instead, I crack a smile.
“And what do you think she does when we’re alone?”
Silverbeard’s nostrils flare, and his eyes harden into slits of steel. “Let’s say I believe all this,” he growls. “Let’s say I letyou keep your life. Then what? You think I’m going to strip the compass from her hands? Drag her through the muck in front of the crew? Show them she had the gall to cross me?”
I take a breath, measuring my next words carefully. This conversation is already on thin ice.
“You could let her go,” I say, pushing down the knot in my throat. “Let her chase the compass like she wants. You could stand aside, untangle yourself from her mess, from me, and still show them you’re the one pulling the strings, no matter how this little drama plays out.”
Silverbeard narrows his eyes, considering my words, though his posture remains rigid, a man too steeped in pride to even entertain the notion of backing down. He hates it. I can feel it in the air between us, thick as tar, but there’s something else too—hesitation. The possibility that he might actually listen.
“Abandon my own daughter?” he breathes. “That’s your grand suggestion?”
I hold his gaze, though I can feel my heart hammering behind my ribs. “It’s not abandoning her. It’s… entrusting her safety to me.”
His boots grind into the floorboards. “Now you’ve reached new heights of madness, boy.”
“I mean it,” I say. “If hell or high water be her fate, then I’ll follow her there myself.”
“And the two of you will die like maggots in the belly of a rotting ship,” he spits. “What power do you think you have to even propose this? Ha! You have lost your mind.”
“Maybe I have,” I say, “but madness is better than letting her face this alone.”
“She won’t have to face anything if I lock her up in a cage and forbid from ever getting out.”
